


Peter F Capra Gets Sh- Uh, Stuff Done

by Sage (Liot)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, fanfic of a fanfic, look i'm bad at presents, this will make 0 sense if you haven't read Chill or Be Chilled or Delete or Be Deleted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liot/pseuds/Sage
Summary: Fanfiction of a fanfiction's deleted scenes. In which Peter F Capra decides he's going to make things right. (Fanfiction of Chill or Be Chilled, of Delete or Be Deleted, present for TotalSkeletonTrash, with mad props and apologies.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotalSkeletonTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalSkeletonTrash/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Delete or Be Deleted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122618) by [TotalSkeletonTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalSkeletonTrash/pseuds/TotalSkeletonTrash). 



Set sometime around the middle of chapter 8 of Delete or Be Deleted, which is a part of Chill or Be Chilled, and honestly if you haven't read either of those this is going to make 0 damn sense.  
  
This was written in literally like... two hours in-between cups of coffee and browsing the web, so uh, sorry about the shortness and any typos.  
  
Anyway, this is a present for auntie TotalSkeletonTrash for, yanno, writing stuff. Thanks.  
  


* * *

  
  
The kid had barely been in his car for two minutes, curled up in the passenger side with Ghost _(“Nah kid, we won't bother with the carrier, it's fine this time”)_ before she'd zonked out. And he knew why. Fuck, it had been the same way with him, hadn't it?  
  
He'd been what, twenty-four? Twenty-five? The first time he'd gone to visit her parents. Those brilliant, beautiful, perfect fucking people. Him, a shuddering nerd who had always been high strung in any situation.  
  
They'd had dinner together. Hell, the kid's dad could _cook._ It had been a feast, he'd literally made traditional Thanksgiving style turkey dinner, in the middle of _June_ the absolute madman. He hadn't thought of it at the time, but they probably didn't eat like that every day. It was probably just because of his scrawny-ass. God, he loved those people.  
  
Kiddo had peppered him with questions about everything in-between bites, like, _everything._ “What do you do at mummy and daddy's work?” (Pretty much everything nobody else wanted to do.)  
  
“Who's that guy on your shirt?” (No idea, this was my only clean shirt.)  
  
“I like your eyebrows?” (Thanks?)  
  
And then had announced the moment her plate was clean that she had to go battle, may she please? And before her mother had made the first syllable of an affirmative, had run off into the yard to sword fight (stick fight) some weird topiary. And then it was just him and that beautiful, brilliant couple, just... talking. About anything, everything, never about uncomfortable things— like it was totally normal to drag your intern over for family dinner.  
  
After that, it had been all of them, sprawled out in the TV room, watching _Contact._ It was his one of his favourite movies of all time. He'd watched it dozens of times. Normally, nothing could even get him to pause it. And he'd just

 

just

 

just

 

… fallen asleep. Barely a few minutes in, and he was out like a light.  
  
Peter never fell asleep in strange places. He just wasn't the type. He barely slept as it was. And he couldn't lie to himself later about it being the turkey, of even just having a full meal for the first time in what felt like years.  
  
It was because he felt safe.  
  
He'd felt safe, and passed out. Just like that.  
  
The kiddo next to him let out a giant snore. He had a sudden influx of terror. _Does the kid have sleep apnea are they dying oh my god I need to get them to a doctor and-_

 

No, no. He was Peter FUCKING Capra.  
  
(Literally. He'd gone down to legally change his name around two years back and it was the best decision of his life. Now he had trouble not snickering every time he handed out a clean, professional business-card with _“Peter F. Capra”_ on it.)  
  
But no, he had this. The kid was— is fine, was going to be fine. He knew what to do. He hooked his bluetooth up to his ear. “Hey, Mike, it's me. Sorry, I know you're busy tonight, but hey, do me a favour. Get us set up for a meeting with the board.” A pause. “Yes, the entire board. I'm on my way now.”  
  
It took a few minutes to explain to Mike that he had you, and a cat, and why. It took much less time to explain in a separate call to his _secretary_ to have cat food, some good grub, a few warm blankets, and oh by the way he has the last scion of Ebbco in his car and—  
  
Oh yeah, she'd definitely taken over from there. By the time he got to the office, it would be swarming with people bearing food, cookies, and most importantly, affection for this poor damn kid. It wasn't his forte, after all. Good thing he had people for that.  
  
A slight whine came from the seat beside him, and reflexively, he reached out a hand and ruffled her hair. Even as his hand froze, she quieted and relaxed.  
  
… Okay. Okay.  
  
He kept a hand on her hair while he drove, and slowly, the anger started to catch up with him.  
  
Yeah. After the kid was taken care of, then he'd have his meeting, and then they'd have lawyers, and They'd. Fucking. Fix this.  
  
**He wouldn't give them a choice.**

 


	2. Peter Eats Fried Noodles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm writing more of this
> 
> It's short because this is what I wrote tonight and I want to post it before it feels too much like a Project and I Don't

It was hard to feel heroic when it wasn't even a real fight.  
  
Paula's access to the kiddo's care fund was frozen almost the moment CPS got involved. All it took after that was an investigation of the kid's home, Paula's seperate (and very recently purchased) condo, and over to interviews with the groundskeepers and teachers.  
  


It was way, way more than enough. The case was pushed through almost immediately. Capra, EbbCo, and their veritable mountain of lawyers were hardly needed for this part— the state was more than prepared to handle the case.  
  


Not to mention Paula tried to plea to remain the kid's conservator— the one in charge of her funds— and almost immediately agreed to give up her guardian status.  
  


This itself was more than enough for the court to decide she would have neither.  
  


After that, things got tricky. And weird. The executor of their will was the family lawyer; an older man who looked like he hadn't slept in the past thirty years. He'd had to go through mountains of paperwork— and pointlessly, verify the original copy of their will again— to see who else should be given charge of kiddo in case anything happened to Paula. Any information they left around was combed through; if there were any mention of next-of-kin to track down, that would be the next step. There were none mentioned.

  


He had been sitting on a park bench a block away from the courthouse eating Chinese takeaway when he'd gotten the fateful phonecall.  
  


"Peter F. Capra," he said, not feeling remotely like giggling.  
  


"Hello, Mr. Capra, my name is Linda Torrence. I am the care specialist currently assigned to Miss _ _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Do you have a moment?"  
  


He jerked slightly, almost upending his fried noodles. "Yes, I have a moment. I have several moments. Did you say _ _ _ _ _ _ _? How is she doing? Are you allowed to tell me that? I want—"  
  


"There's no need to worry, Sir!"  
  


_No Peter don't get distracted by the lady calling you Sir this is not the time—_   
  


Her voice continued, oblivious to his internal monologue, "You'll be glad to know she is doing very well and is getting healthier. She was a little worried about her cat at first—"  
  


"Oh God, they didn't let her keep Ghost?! Where is he, I'll—"  
  


"Sir, it's quite fine. He was allowed to stay with her, of course; she has been receiving home health services. She was more worried for her cat's health, but the cat is doing fine as well. She wanted you to know." He could almost hear the smile through the phone. "We were even able to get him approved as her therapy pet."  
  


"That's, uh, is that why you called me?"  
  


"No, Sir. I have called to ask if you were among those applying for guardianship."  
  


"I— what? Me?" Peter gaped.  
  


“Yes, you.” The woman's voice changed slightly. There was a noticeable lack of a _Sir._ “Frankly, she has not stopped talking about you since she was placed under care. She keeps asking when Petey is coming back. She informed her therapist and the home-health employees that she has cleaned your old room, if you decided to visit. I take it you were close to the family?”  
  


His stomach seemed to be trying to suplex his heart. “She— she cleaned my room? Are my action figures still there?”  
  


There was a pause.  
  


“She did not mention.”  
  


“Oh, uh.” Right. That probably hadn't been the response of a proper, responsible adult. “Because like, she can keep them. She can have all of them. They're hers, always were in that house.”  
  


The woman sighed statically into the phone. “May I ask again: were you considering guardianship?”  
  


Peter took a long look at the court building looming down the block. He thought about the aspect of being responsible for another living, breathing human being. And then he remembered it wasn't just a kid, it was _ _ _ _ _ _. He swallowed hard.  
  


“Sounds more like she's considering me. We'll see if she decides I'm good enough.”

  


\---

  


She did.

  


And so did the court.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also sorry if any legal stuff of kinda off; mostly writing off the cuff.


End file.
